


Give Me What I Need

by atheldamn



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bathtubs, Cock Rings, Crying, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Negotiations, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Pining Grantaire, Praise Kink, Riding Crops, Stress Relief, Sub Grantaire, What am I doing?, but not for enjolras, dom Jehan, shared baths are my thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheldamn/pseuds/atheldamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When self-doubt and stress threaten to overwhelm Grantaire, he has one friend he can turn to. A quiet and timid poet he may be, but Jehan knows exactly what R needs to settle down again, and he is more than willing to help out. If only it were more than just a favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arojameswesley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arojameswesley/gifts).



> This is my first time writing anything like this so any issues, please let me know. Everything is previously agreed upon, if not explicitly so during the fic, but Jehan likes to check. It is also unbeta'd, except read through by me.
> 
> Also a birthday gift to [feministtaire](http://feministtaire.tumblr.com)! Because who doesn't want smut on their birthday tbh.

Grantaire knocked twice on the door, hard, and stepped back to wait for the answer. It was a door he had stood at many times before, with peeling off-white paint that was due to be redone a long time ago, and small flowerpots adorning the step, overflowing with plants that were clearly lovingly cared for. He’d stood and waited, but never had he felt like this before.

After what felt like an age, it opened, and Jehan stood with a soft frown on his face.

“R?” he asked, cocking his head to the side like a curious bird. “What are you doing here, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Sorry. Hi,” Grantaire sighed, attempting a smile, though he knew it was tight and forced looking. Jehan clearly picked up on that, his confusion melting to worry, and he stepped aside.

“Hi. Come in. I mean it with the utmost care, but you look awful, R. When did you last sleep?” he asked as he closed the door behind him, shutting the world out, and even with just that, Grantaire felt a little tension leave his shoulders. Now he’d made it to the relative calm of Jehan’s place, he felt infinitely better.

“It was a few days ago. I think. Maybe. I’ve just had so much work on and I can’t stop thinking even though it’s all gone, I-”

“Grantaire,” Jehan interrupted, and he instantly fell silent. His eyes automatically fell to the ground beside Jehan’s bare feet, and he closed his mouth. “Did you come here for this? For me to help with your control?” Grantaire nodded. “We’re not in a scene, you have to talk to me.”

“Yeah,” he replied, and instantly felt like he was asking too much of Jehan. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you, I can’t just turn up here and ask, that’s not what we’ve ever agreed on.” He watched Jehan’s toes curl against the carpet, then back away.

“You’re here as a friend, right now, nothing more. Look at me, then come and sit down.” Grantaire took a deep breath, pulling himself back up, and he did raise his eyes to watch Jehan take a seat on the small sofa. He sat beside him, thigh pressed to him, and let out a shaky breath. He could feel his heart beating in his ears, and he pressed his hand to his head in an attempt to calm himself. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why you’re here.” Jehan’s voice was calm, but firm, and Grantaire didn’t for one second think about not answering him.

“I’ve had a lot of work due. Essays and projects and portfolios. They’re almost all done, now. But I can’t switch off. I can’t settle. I need…” He trailed off, but Jehan knew what he wanted.

“You want me to settle you. To take control for a little while.” Grantaire nodded, clasping his hands in his lap and glancing sideways on his face. For some ridiculous reason, he thought he would see contempt, or disappointment, on his face, but there was no trace of anything like that. Instead, he only saw compassion and concern.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.” Jehan placed his hand on his leg, and shook his head.

“I’m not unhappy with you asking,” he said with a smile. “I just wasn’t expecting you.” The hand on his leg moved to his hair, just pushing unruly curls back from his face, his thumb stroking his skin. Grantaire leant sideways gradually more, head listing towards Jehan's shoulder, and he tried to focus on the way his shoulder pressed against him harder as he took each breath. “You just haven’t asked like this before.”

Grantaire huffed a laugh and lifted his head, glancing sideways at Jehan. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Fucking ironic, really, that I couldn’t stop thinking, then couldn’t stop thinking about the thing that would stop me thinking. I’m just… I’m so stressed, Jehan. And what I’ve done, it doesn’t feel good enough, I don’t feel good enough, I need to… be good enough. I need you”

Jehan would understand, he knew. The first time they’d tried this, on a whim of curiousity, Grantaire had wound up crying just because Jehan told him he was doing well. Not often did Grantaire hear those words. And certainly not did he hear them from the lips of the occasional drunken tryst he’d picked up for just one night. Jehan, someone who was honest and true and loyal to him and all his friends to a fault, someone he deeply cared for, saying that to him, it had meant everything in that moment, when he had felt vulnerable and open, and he hadn’t been able to help it. He trusted Jehan to tell him when he was being good enough.

“Alright. Alright,” Jehan soothed, cupping Grantaire’s face in his hands for a moment and holding his eye, clearly thinking. “From the moment of your agreement, I want you here. I don’t want you thinking about your university work. It’s completed, and you don’t need to worry about it any longer. Second, this isn’t just going to be sex. I don’t think that’s what you need. Is that okay?” Grantaire nodded. “Good. Red to stop, yellow to pause, okay?” Grantaire nodded again, and Jehan dropped his hands from his face, sitting back into the sofa. Instantly, he missed their presence, even though Jehan’s hands were almost always chilled. It felt like they were grounding him. “Now, you’re remarkably deep already. After this, we’re going to have to talk about that. You cannot allow yourself to slip before you get here. But I won’t chastise you for it. There’s fresh bread in the kitchen, and jam on the windowsill. One slice of toast each, and tea. You know where everything is.”

Grantaire stood before his brain had even caught up with his body. He knew what Jehan was doing; easing him in with something simple, giving him clear instructions for something that isn’t even remotely sexual or even intimate. It was what he needed.

With a happy smile on his face, Grantaire went through to the kitchen and set about making toast and tea for them both. It had been a while since he’d eaten anything proper, and even though he hadn’t mentioned food, he knew Jehan was intuitive, and good at reading between the lines of his bullshit. In the other room, the telly turned on, a low murmur he reckoned was a competitive cooking show - Masterchef? Possibly baking? - floating through to the kitchen. It made the situation feel more normal, and he relaxed as he brought through the food and drink.

“Thankyou, Grantaire,” Jehan said as he placed the plate down on the coffee table, and he patted the sofa beside him. Grantaire dropped into the seat.

“This one is for you,” he said, handing Jehan the slice with more jam on. “I know you have a sweet tooth. There’s sugar in the tea, too.” Jehan bit into the toast and smiled as he chewed.

“This is perfect. Thankyou. Well done,” he praised, and even though it was little and silly and for practically nothing, Grantaire felt himself blush. A smile pulled over his face and he dipped his head, picking up his own plate and settling back into the soft cushions of Jehan’s sofa.

The TV show droned on, and though Grantaire was watching, he didn’t take in anything that was happening. Someone baked a cake that looked like a bee, and the judges seemed to be very excited about it, but Grantaire couldn’t find himself to care at all. His mind just kept going, kept panicking unrestrained about the damn projects. They didn’t feel good enough, and he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about them, that he’d been told not to, but he couldn’t stop.

The end of the programme didn’t sway him from his thoughts. His tea sat on the table, cooling and forgotten. The empty plate balanced on his knee, and he stared blankly at the television.

A hand on his knee eventually pulled him from his reverie, and he took a sharp breath and looked sideways, and met Jehan’s slightly disapproving expression.

“I don’t like cooking programmes,” he said, trying his luck with a smirk on his face. It was a lie; he loved cooking programmes. Jehan smiled, shaking his head, and pushed at his knee.

“Go to the bedroom. Pick out what you want, then make yourself comfortable. There are sweatpants in there if you want to change.” His instructions were given clearly, though there was a pleasant, almost innocent look on his face. It twisted something in his stomach, something not dissimilar to arousal, and his face blushed softly. It was more relaxing than that, though. Being told to do something so simple, and something distinctly not university work, was exactly what he needed. Jehan continued. “I will clean up these, and then I’ll be through. Okay?”

Grantaire nodded, then remembered Jehan liked him to speak and not to become non-verbal during things like this. “Yes. That’s fine. Yes.”

“Good boy.”


	2. During

He took himself through to the bedroom. Jehan kept it simple, like he did the rest of his house, with plain white walls and clean white bedding. Compared to the clutter and messiness of his own house, it was a refuge.

Pulling off his jumper, he crouched, pulling out the box from beneath the bed where Jehan kept his ‘supplies’, and sat back on his heels, suddenly feeling vaguely overwhelmed. There was a lot of choice, it had to be said. Jehan kept at least five different dildos alone, let alone his assortment of plugs, cuffs, and ropes. Grantaire had absolutely no idea what he wanted.

From the other room, the sound of water running and plates being washed up encouraged him to get a move on and pick quickly. He wanted to feel alive and to not feel stressed. Most in the box would do the job, but he settled on Jehan’s crop and a plain, silver cock ring. Grabbing a bottle of lube, just in case, he dumped his choices on the bed, and began wriggling his way out of his jeans.

The water shut off just as he kicked them away, and he sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in his lap, wearing an old brown t-shirt and grey underwear. His cock was already visibly outlined against the fabric. It had been a while since he’d had any sex at all, let alone sex like this, and so the simple act of choosing what he wanted had gotten him excited.

Jehan walked in a few moments later, rubbing his hands together to remove the last dampness from them, and he looked over Grantaire before checking out his choices.

“Good,” he said, and Grantaire relaxed a little more, shoulders lowering. Jehan’s eyes then moved to Grantaire, and this time, they lingered, taking in his unshaven beard and his paint spattered skin. It had, admittedly, been a few days since he showered. “Stand up.”

Grantaire did, his hands moving unbidden to attempt to maintain some sort of modesty, but Jehan reached out and lightly took his wrists in his hands.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said, softly. “You know I think you’re beautiful, even like this.” Grantaire blushed again, looking away. Jehan would always tell him how beautiful and handsome he is, and though Grantaire didn’t believe him, he could tell he was being sincere, and it did affect him. “Here. Undress me first.”

This, Grantaire could do. He moved his hands from Jehan’s grip and began unbuttoning his shirt. His own eyes remained on his hands, tracking them down, but he could feel Jehan’s eyes on his face, watching him. His face was hot, and red, he knew, and he couldn’t look up. Slowly, Jehan’s own pale skin was revealed, only marked by freckles, and Grantaire ran his hands up him to push his shirt from his shoulders. The other exhaled slowly, moving his arms to help Grantaire vest him of his shirt, and it fell to the floor behind him with a soft ‘whumf’.

“Leave it,” Jehan said, quiet but commanding, a slight lilt to his voice that told Grantaire he was enjoying himself already, and Grantaire lifted his gaze to meet his. There was a playful expression on his face, and his lip was between his teeth. Grantaire so desperately wanted to kiss him. He reached a hand up and pulled the tie from the end of his plait, and he deliberately unwound his plait. Grantaire’s hands itched to run through his hair, soft and silken, but he kept them by his sides. He’d not been told he could touch.

“No,” Jehan told him, seemingly reading his mind and able to tell his thoughts, his eyes glittering. “On your knees.”

Grantaire dropped with a harsh exhalation of breath, his hands instantly going to Jehan’s hips to steady himself. The carpet was harsh on his knees, and he knew it would hurt in time, but he put that to the back of his mind. Jehan was his focus now. Not even the thoughts of looming deadlines and disappointed tutors crossed his mind, not as his hands went to the button on Jehan’s jeans and unfastened it.

Jehan wasn’t hard, but he was getting there, and underneath the clean scent of his washing powder, he could smell the familiar tang of his arousal. His mouth watered, and as he lowered his zip, he leaned in and pressed the tip of his nose to his cock through his underwear.

Jehan’s hand slid into Grantaire’s hair. “Go on,” he urged, but he left no question that Grantaire had a choice. Grantaire had been given a task, and it made his head feel clearer. He could focus on this.

He pulled on his jeans until they were around his thighs, and slid his hands back up Jehan’s thighs to do the same to his underwear. Once he was exposed, Grantaire took his cock in his hand, and he could feel it thickening in his hand, a heartbeat pulsing in the vein just below the soft skin. Jehan let out a quiet noise, but his hand remained loose in his hair. He wouldn’t push yet.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Jehan sang, and Grantaire looked up at him.

“You didn’t tell me to go, either,” he replied, lifting an eyebrow in challenge. Jehan grinned, but tightened his hand in his hair so it pulled just on the good side of painful. Grantaire gasped, holding still so as not to pull more, and Jehan relaxed his hand a second later. It was punishment enough - Jehan was not too strict, not even when Grantaire was a complete wanker. Still confined in his boxers, Grantaire felt his cock twitch slightly, the remnants of pain in his scalp making his nerves seem to sing.

“Use your mouth on me until I tell you to stop. Prove that you’re good at something.” Grantaire huffed a soft moan, barely audible, but he knew Jehan picked up on it by the thumb that stroked over his scalp a few times before again stilling. Licking his lips, he leaned in, pressing his tongue to the underside of the top of his cock. His hand remained on the base, steadying him for now, and he took the head in his mouth, sucking softly.

Jehan sighed above him, thighs tensing underneath Grantaire’s hand, and Grantaire smiled. This, he was good at, he knew, he’d proven this before. And he so wanted to be good, he wanted Jehan to call him good. Making Jehan feel good would make him call him good.

Taking a deep breath, Grantaire started to take more of Jehan in his mouth, moving his tongue against him. They’d done this enough times that Grantaire had begun to learn the little things that made Jehan’s knees weak (though he absolutely would not think about how his longest lasting relationship was basically getting to his knees for his best friend who he may have feelings for but who absolutely did not have feelings for him, it was vaguely pathetic). He could easily let himself settle into a rhythm, working on autopilot to get him off.

But he knew the moment he let his attention have a moment to itself, it would be directly back on his university work, and the incredible sense of disillusion and disappointment he had in himself. And so he didn’t. He put every ounce of his awareness into his mouth on Jehan’s cock, taking him from his mouth to suck softly against the side, taking him as far as he could and swallowing around him before teasing him by only mouthing at the tip. Jehan moaned softly above him, his hips twitching every time Grantaire did something particularly pleasing, but his hand remained only loosely curled in his hair. He didn’t want to finish this way.

“Stop,” he breathed after a few minutes, pulling him away from his cock by his hair. Grantaire looked up, and Jehan looked incredible, his cheeks and lips pink, his hair a mess from the hand he must have been running through it, and his eyes glittering and bright, looking down at Grantaire with something akin to pride in his expression.

“You’re so good at that. Such a talented mouth.” Jehan’s hand left his hair, and his thumb brushed over his wet lower lip. In his chest, Grantaire felt a warm feeling spread, grabbing at his lungs and making his head feel… free. He grinned against Jehan’s fingers. “Are you well?”

“Yes. God, yes. This is perfect. Thankyou,” Grantaire replied.

“Don’t thank me yet. On your feet. I want you undressed on the bed.” Flushing, Grantaire got to his feet, and pulled the remainder of his clothes off. Naked, he sat on the bed, hesitating. He didn’t even think twice about now being nude in front of Jehan, whom he considered utterly beautiful. Jehan knelt in front of him, and Grantaire’s mouth felt very dry, the question he’d been on the verge of asking gone.

A cool hand wrapped around his cock, and Grantaire whined. “What are you doing?” he squeaked, and without hesitating, Jehan bit his thigh hard. Grantaire yelped, grabbing the sheets.

“Don’t question me. You are not permitted to question me.” Jehan’s hand kept moving on his cock, and as the pain from his leg lessened, he whimpered again, the two feelings very confusing.

“I’m sorry, Jehan…”

“It’s okay.” Jehan swiped his thumb over the head of his cock, and it seemed to shoot through him. His eyes closed, and the hand kept moving, slowly warming up, and before he knew it, a cool piece of metal slid over his cock. Jehan fastened the ring in place at the base, tight and cold around him, and he shivered. “Tell me how you are, Grantaire.”

“Oh god… Green, it’s good… How do you want me?” he asked, slightly breathless.

“On your front. Make yourself comfortable. If you move, I will have to restrain you, and because you haven’t picked that out, I would rather not. Do you understand?”

Grantaire nodded, and lay with his arms folded beneath his head. A hand rested low on his back, and he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Beneath him, his cock pressed warm against the bottom of his stomach, and he shifted slightly, searching for relief despite the ring that would allow him none.

The hand tapped him, barely a slap, on the top of his left cheek, and he made a soft noise in the back of his throat.

“Stay still, Grantaire,” Jehan admonished, the hand leaving his skin. Even though Grantaire knew he was right there, stood beside him on the bed, he was being quiet. He felt surprisingly alone. 

While he was still calm, thoughts of not being good enough soon started to creep back in. His final piece for his fine art module certainly wasn’t up to scratch. He’d seen what other students had created for theirs, confidently working on them within the rooms at university. He couldn’t even bear to take his in, for he was certain it was not as good as theirs. The brushstrokes were too heavy handed, his colour choice too vivid-

“Stop,” said Jehan close to his ear, resting his hand on the centre of his back, between his shoulderblades. Grantaire let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d held, trying to relax, an apology on his lips, but it was stopped by the light pressure of something hard and straight and thin laying across the rise of his butt. There was a little give in the crop, but it was firm and fairly unrelenting, and it stung when Jehan hit him with it.

That was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m sorry-” he gasped, but he was cut off by a soft shushing.

“Don’t apologise. You didn’t listen to me. You know I have to correct that.” There was a hint of reluctance in Jehan’s voice, put there purposely to make Grantaire feel even worse. It was done entirely on purpose, Grantaire knew, but it worked every time. He felt his stomach curl uncomfortably, the urge to kneel at Jehan’s feet and beg him for mercy entirely unreasonable given his misdemeanour, but he couldn’t help it. “You’ll receive 15 strikes. Ten to take you out of your mind, and 5 for disobeying me. Tell me how you feel.” The crop left him, but the hand stayed in the centre of his back, moving in reassuring circles.

“Green,” Grantaire replied slowly, unwilling to let himself say anything else. If he did, he knew he’d do something daft like beg for mercy or ask for more. But it wasn’t his choice. It was Jehan’s, and if he wanted to give Grantaire 15 strikes, he would take them.

The first seemed to come out of nowhere, Jehan letting the silence after he had spoke drag on for long enough that Grantaire was on the verge of asking him if he was okay. Such a surprise it was that Grantaire cried out, not in pain, but because he had not been expecting it. It landed exactly where the crop had lain moments before, across the softest part of his butt, and it was only enough to sting for a few seconds before receding to a line of heat and sensitivity.

“Good, Grantaire. Good.” Jehan’s hand moved, coming to rest on top of his shoulder, and he applied a little pressure. It was enough to remind Grantaire he had to lay still. “Now breathe. I want you to relax.”

Against the pillow, Grantaire nodded, taking a long, deep breath. Tension left his body, and as he exhaled for the second time, Jehan brought the crop down on him again, this time across his back. It stung, but not as much, though he was certain it wasn’t lighter. He let himself breathe, and slowly, as he counted quietly to three, four, five, he reduced to only physical sensations - the lines of heat on his back, the firm hand on his neck, the cool air of the room blowing over him, and the continuous ache of his cock, still trapped between his body and the sheets. He daren’t move his hips for relief, but he wanted it.

At 8, Jehan stopped, the three previous hits a lot harder than the first ones. Grantaire realised he was shaking, his hands gripping the pillow, and Jehan’s hand brushed through his hair.

“You’re doing so well. I wish you could see yourself, you look beautiful. Tell me how you are.”

“Please…” he whimpered, unable to stop himself from rubbing against the sheets. The pause, and the snap back to reality, had him realise how hard he was, the adrenaline from the pain setting his every nerve on edge.

“Grantaire,” he warned.

“Green… Jehan, please…” His voice was rough, and he forced open his eyes to look up at Jehan. Apart from a flush to his cheeks and the hard line of his cock, Jehan looked almost unaffected by him. His face was calm and soft and entirely commanding, unlike he ever looked anywhere else. Grantaire whined.

Still looking directly at him, Jehan brought the crop down on him again. Grantaire saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, but it didn’t prepare him for how hard Jehan hit him. Tomorrow, he knew, he would be desperately uncomfortable.

He couldn’t help but cry out, turning his head to bury it in the pillow as he whined. The crop hit directly across his shoulderblades, and while it hurt, it seemed to go straight to his cock, and he felt it twitch against him, a wetness at the tip.

The last six blows, Grantaire couldn’t even tell how far apart they were. They never overlapped with a previous line, lighting up new stripes across his skin, and he felt his eyes prick with tears. His body seemed to be tingling, his ears muffled, and he felt on the verge of begging, though he could do nothing about it. He sucked in a breath, turning his face away from the pillow.

Two hands lay on either side of his waist, two hot points of contact, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Grantaire, look at me. Look at me and tell me how you are.” There was a little concern in his voice, and Grantaire could tell it was genuine. Though it was a great effort, Grantaire opened his eyes.

“Green… Oh fuck…” he answered after a few seconds. He was achingly hard, so much that his head was spinning and, aside from Jehan, it was all he could think about.

“Good. Roll onto your side for me.” The concern was less now. “You did so well. You took that so well for me, I’m so proud of you.”

Grantaire moved himself onto his side, avoiding putting any pressure on the marks on his back, and he looked up at Jehan. His words put a lump in his throat, and the desire to please Jehan increased even more, if only so he could hear him talking like that. 

One hand had left his side and was on Jehan’s cock, slowly moving, and Grantaire whimpered. 

“Tell me what you want,” Jehan said, in that voice that was both soft and caring, and hard and firm at the same time.

“Please can I make you feel good. Please let me…” he asked, his eyes flicking between Jehan’s face and his hand on his cock. He itched to reach forward and take it off, and to use his hand or his mouth.

After a few seconds, Jehan moved onto the bed, kneeling in front of his face. Grantaire pushed himself onto his elbow, nuzzling against the inside of Jehan’s folded knee.

“I’m going to use my hand on you.” From above him, he heard a click, and he didn’t need to look to know Jehan was applying lube to his hand. “Don’t bring me to orgasm until I say you can. And of course, you are not allowed to find release until I do. Colour me,” he asked, voice light.

“Green. Fuck, so green…” Grantaire whined, brushing his lips against Jehan’s inner thigh. His skin tasted like nothing, his tongue brushing against him as he pushed himself closer to his cock. 

“Good… God, Grantaire, you’re so good, so wonderful.” Jehan’s hand landed back in his hair, this time definitely pulling. “Now stop hesitating and suck me off like I told you to.” The tug and almost-harsh words had Grantaire’s cock twitching again, even though it had not been touched yet, and he moaned pitifully, glancing up at Jehan before leaning in and closing his mouth around the top.

This time, he had no hand to steady his cock, leaning on one and the other holding himself up with Jehan’s hip, and so he had to rely on sucking him thoroughly enough. As his mouth took him, Jehan’s hand curled around his cock, just around the top, and that was it. It didn’t move.

Grantaire didn’t have the patience to suck him off slowly. He wanted to do well, and to make Jehan happy, but he was desperate and needy. The hand on his cock wasn’t making him any more willing to take his time, either.

Exhaling hard, he took as much of Jehan in as he could, and he heard the other moan above him, the sound faint as though he had his head tilted up to the ceiling. He didn’t look, eyes closed and concentrating as he swallowed around him. The hand on his cock only moved slowly, but it was a tight grip, and Jehan didn’t admonish him for rocking his hips forward into his fist. He felt secure that he wouldn’t disobey him and come before was allowed, the ring still tight around him.

Jehan’s moans slowly rose in pitch and volume, and his hand tightened in Grantaire’s hair. Again, he felt his eyes prick, but when he groaned around Jehan, the other only responded by rolling his hips forward more.

Eventually, Jehan took over, thrusting smoothly into his mouth and using the hand in his hair to hold him still. Grantaire relaxed himself as he could, his breathing ragged.

“Good, oh god, Grantaire, you are incredible, truly, you are a sight to behold, would that I could have you like this all of the time, so quiet and honest and amazing…” From above, Jehan kept a constant litany of praise up, knowing how it affected Grantaire, pulling him apart more than any physical act could, and he kept sucking even as Jehan’s voice trailed off and he came down his throat.

Grantaire remained still until Jehan moved enough that he could take his mouth from his cock, gasping a breath as the hand on his cock twisted and continued to jerk him off. He stayed on his side, but flopped off his arms, hips rocking forward.

“You did so well. You always do so well. Good boy, do you want me to let you finish?” Jehan asked, breathless but pleased-sounding, and Grantaire nodded.

“Please, Jehan, please,” he sobbed, so close and so overwhelmed with the praise Jehan had kept raining down on him that he’d been reduced to desperate emotion.

The hand left his hair, and he didn’t care where it went. A second later, the cock ring was unfastened and taken from him, and he moaned loudly as Jehan’s hand moved swift over him, bringing him off in less than a dozen strokes. All the while, Jehan leaned close to his ear, telling him how good he was and how beautiful he was. He came hard, knocking the breath out of him, the only sounds he was able to make whimpers. 

When he was able to take a breath, he opened his eyes to look up at Jehan, a dopey smile on his face.

“Thankyou,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss at his knee. Jehan huffed, shaking his head, and twisted so he could lean down and press a proper kiss to his lips. Compared to what they had been doing, it was relatively chaste, just a soft brush of parted lips, Grantaire unable to muster anything else, but it was perfect. Grantaire felt like he swooped, and Jehan was smiling back at him when he pulled away again.

“Are you okay? Was everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes, Jehan… Perfect… Thankyou…” Grantaire wanted to ask if he was okay, but it felt like too much, like it wasn’t his place to ask.

“Stop thanking me. You were so good. I’m proud of you,” Jehan repeated, but it lost none of it’s meaning, and Grantaire snuggled up against his chest as Jehan laid down alongside him. “Well done.”


	3. After

A few long minutes of silence passed, in which Grantaire realised he was shaking. His forehead stayed pressed to Jehan’s chest, skin damp, and he’d feel disgusting if he could muster anything but bliss and comfort. His head felt clearer than it had in days. It was incredible.

“Grantaire?” he heard Jehan saying, though it sounded far away, and he forced himself to tilt his head back and look up at him.

“Hm?”

“You weren’t answering. Are you okay?” Jehan asked, stroking a hand through his manky hair.

“Amazing…” he mumbled, barely opening his mouth. Jehan leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Good. You did so well, you know.” Grantaire made a noise of dissent, and so Jehan flicked his scalp. “I know we did nothing hard. But you relaxed. That’s what we were trying to do. And you did it really well.”

“Yeah?” Jehan sat up, and Grantaire rolled onto his back, forgetting about the bruises lining his skin. He winced and whimpered, moving back onto his side. “Fuck…”

“Damn, sorry, roll onto your front.” Grantaire did as he was told without thinking, curling one arm beneath his head. Jehan lay a cool hand on his back, and Grantaire slowly blinked up at him. “Are you okay with this?”

“Bit late to take it back now, edelwiess.”

“We should never have watched The Sound of Music,” Jehan laughed, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. “I’m serious. Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Grantaire shrugged. “It’s fine.” In truth, each stripe stung, and he knew he’d be uncomfortable tomorrow as well, but even now, the slight pain was keeping him from thinking about the work. They reminded him of the reason he’d asked for it in the first place.

“Sit up. We’ll go and get you a bath. You haven’t washed in days, have you?” He lay a second blanket about Grantaire’s shoulders as he sat up. Jehan’s shoulder was right there, it seemed silly not to lay his forehead against it. The thought of getting out of the bed and staying in the bath away from Jehan sent a rush of panic through him, so he stayed silent. Jehan sighed.

“I’ll come with you,” he added. “I won’t leave you on your own if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire replied quickly, and Jehan’s hands lay on his side for a second, before gently pushing.

“Come on. Bathroom.” He clambered off the bed on slightly shaky legs, and shuffling behind Jehan, made his way to the bathroom. The skin on his stomach was tacky and uncomfortable, but the blanket smelt overwhelmingly like Jehan. While his back was turned, Grantaire wrapped it around his hands and pulled it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Jehan was floral and fresh, like a seaside meadow on a spring morning, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

It was only when he opened his eyes that he saw Jehan looking at him with a strange smile on his face. Grantaire immediately dropped his hands and blushed.

“Don’t,” Jehan said, before Grantaire could apologise, and he even looked surprised at himself. Quickly, he turned away, and began to run the bath. The bathroom was small, so Grantaire didn’t feel too far away sitting on the closed toilet while Jehan busied himself with assorted essential oils. Soon, the room smelt like lavender, but it wasn’t too much.

“Can you stay there? I’ll go get us a drink.” Jehan lay his hand on Grantaire’s neck and waited for him to nod before leaning down to kiss him. Grantaire tipped his head up to kiss him back, just softly brushing his lips against him, and he didn’t notice the hesitation in Jehan’s kiss.

He wasn’t gone for too long, but it felt like forever. Grantaire watched the bath fill, and the steam cover up the mirror. The bath, small and scratched and otherwise tired-looking, was overwhelmed by a veritable jungle of plants, flowers, and cacti Jehan had set on every available surface. A vine ran up the wall opposite the tap end of the bath, reaching up to the window that Jehan never closed, delicate purple flowers reaching out from between vivid green leaves. Grantaire idly thought to ask what species it was. The open window brought a chill into the room, but rather than being uncomfortable and cold, it made the room feel refreshing, brushing away the remnants of fuzziness from his orgasm, making him feel alert and awake again.

He wrapped his arms around himself, pulling the blanket tight, not caring about the fabric scratching over his bruises. Jehan was eventually back, though, with a prepared tea tray, turning off the bath. Crouching in front of Grantaire, he rested his hands on his knees.

“You want to get in?”

“Well yeah, of course I do, otherwise what would be the point.”

Jehan raised an eyebrow. “Dick,” he mumbled affectionately. “Do you want me to get in with you? Would that be okay?” Grantaire met his eyes, brown and warm and almost imploring.

“Of course I do,” he repeated, lifting a hand to Jehan’s cheek. “You can stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

“I beat you with a riding crop,” Jehan pointed out, standing up and helping Grantaire to his feet. He took both their blankets and bundled them up, throwing them into the corner. “You have to allow me to take care of you. That’s how it works. Now get in.”

He held Grantaire’s hand while he climbed into the bath, waiting while he gingerly lowered himself in. The water was hot enough to redden his skin, and once it got to his back, it burned.

“Fuck… This is worse than it was at the time,” he whined, holding himself on his knees, unwilling to lower himself any further. Jehan cleared his throat above his head, and Grantaire looked up at him with a frown. His cheeks, usually so pale, were pink, and it wasn’t from the heat. Grantaire shoved at his hand, but he was grinning.

“I can’t help it. You look beautiful on your knees.”

“You’re incorrigable. Get in the fucking bath.” He moved back, making room for Jehan, and he quickly hopped in, long limbs folding themselves into the scented water. The poet was skinny, almost underweight looking, but Grantaire found he could appreciate the way bones and lean muscles shifted under the skin. He told himself it was an artistic appreciation, but it was becoming harder to lie to himself.

“Turn around,” Jehan said softly, voice bouncing off the tiles and seeming to surround Grantaire. “You don’t want to lean back against the taps, and I can apply cream for you.” Again, Grantaire obeyed instantly, without even considering a witty quip or arguing that he could do it himself. Self-consciously, he wrapped his arms around his knees, dropping his head.

“Can I touch you?” Grantaire nodded hurriedly.

“Please,” he replied, sighing with content as Jehan’s hands splayed over his sides. Reaching back, he grabbed his ankles, pulling them around his waist, his thumbs pressing into the arches of his feet. Jehan giggled, but didn’t pull away, forehead resting against his back.

“You feeling more with me now?” he asked, lips against Grantaire’s skin.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“You want to tell me why I did this?” A pair of fingers started gently rubbing a thick cream into one of the marks. Grantaire hissed in pain, but it passed quickly, and he relaxed again.

“Because it brings me out of my head,” Grantaire mumbled. “I got stuck. I don’t know, Jehan. It just helps.”

“I’m glad I could help you,” Jehan said, nuzzling affectionately into the base of his neck. An uncomfortable swoop pulled through his stomach at the tenderness of it, and his hands tightened around his ankles. It was only for a split second, but Jehan noticed, his fingers stopping on his back. 

Grantaire ducked his head further forward, moving away from Jehan.

“Are you busy tonight?” Jehan finally said, after a few long seconds of silence dragged between them. 

“I don’t think I’ll be up to anything like that again,” Grantaire replied, huffing a laugh.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. We can just spend time together. I was going to cook rabbit-”

“Rabbit, of course you were.” Jehan tapped his shoulder, feigning annoyance.

“Shut up. I want you to stay. For dinner.”

“Dinner?” Grantaire deadpanned, looking over his shoulder. But instead of the usual playful friendliness he saw in Jehan’s face, he saw nervousness. “You mean, dinner dinner? As in, candles and wine and- You’re asking me in on a date?”

“You’re beautiful and clever and funny and talented and, let’s be honest here, incredible in bed. I am very fond of you.” A hand came up to his jaw and pulled his head around, and Jehan leaned in, brushing his mouth against his. Jehan’s lips tasted like salt. Grantaire wanted more. “Don’t you- I thought you had feelings for me as well. After all of this… Did I- Oh god, Grantaire, I’m sorry-” Grantaire brought two fingers up to place on his lips, stopping his friend’s babbling.

“You’re misinterpreting my silence for reluctance. It’s not, it’s surprise. I thought this was just a favour. All of this, I didn’t know you had feelings, you big idiot.” Grantaire felt himself grinning, and watched as a hopeful smile emerged on Jehan’s face. “Of course I’ll stay. As a date. We’ll watch Watership Down.”

“I fucking hate you, Gui-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” To silence Jehan, Grantaire turned in the bath, keeping his legs wrapped around him, and kissed him firmly, wrapping his arms around his waist. Jehan smiled against him, a soft, happy noise escaping him as Grantaire’s tongue brushed against his lower lip. Words were mumbled between them, quiet confessions of love, and neither of them left the bath for a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://switchferre.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Comments etc all welcome. Thankyou for reading!


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